Saber didn't bound down the stairs as the Brucolac did, but she kept pace. She came to a stop at the bottom, eyes taking in the state of things. Refugees always ended up in a sad place until something better was provided, and it pained Saber's heart to see these people in such a state. She wanted them to have more, a place they could call home again, but until the ices were taken care of, there was little that could be done.
The king took a few more steps forward and pushed her prana outward from her body. It wasn't a pleasant feeling when it washed over any in the immediate room as her prana was dark, full of dread and despair, but it took the immediate chill out of the air. Oh, it was still cold, but not so biting. She took herself over too the nearest area of frost and knelt down, her cloak preventing any water from soaking through her dress.
"I will start here," she murmured as she removed her clothes and tucked them into her belt. One bare hand went down to press its fingers against the frozen surface, while the other was held up before her, palm up, like she was holding something.
Eyes closing, Saber tapped into her core, grasping all that magic potential she rarely ever made use of. With the ice magic she'd been gifted with, she worked with the principles of magic she had learned through overhearing lectures in her own world regarding magecraft and how it worked. This was not a comfortable process for her, as she had chosen the sword over magic all those years ago, but her own comfort mattered little in the face of suffering people.
Slowly... very slowly, the frost in the far reaches of the room began to retract, to withdraw, as it all receded toward where Saber was. It was as if she was pulling all the frost and ice toward herself. And, in the palm of her upheld hand, a snowball began to form and grow in size the more frost she pulled away.
no subject
The king took a few more steps forward and pushed her prana outward from her body. It wasn't a pleasant feeling when it washed over any in the immediate room as her prana was dark, full of dread and despair, but it took the immediate chill out of the air. Oh, it was still cold, but not so biting. She took herself over too the nearest area of frost and knelt down, her cloak preventing any water from soaking through her dress.
"I will start here," she murmured as she removed her clothes and tucked them into her belt. One bare hand went down to press its fingers against the frozen surface, while the other was held up before her, palm up, like she was holding something.
Eyes closing, Saber tapped into her core, grasping all that magic potential she rarely ever made use of. With the ice magic she'd been gifted with, she worked with the principles of magic she had learned through overhearing lectures in her own world regarding magecraft and how it worked. This was not a comfortable process for her, as she had chosen the sword over magic all those years ago, but her own comfort mattered little in the face of suffering people.
Slowly... very slowly, the frost in the far reaches of the room began to retract, to withdraw, as it all receded toward where Saber was. It was as if she was pulling all the frost and ice toward herself. And, in the palm of her upheld hand, a snowball began to form and grow in size the more frost she pulled away.